


064 - 'Bad Boy' Van (Not Really Tho)

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 04:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17460500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “Can we have a bad Van? A van who maybe gets caught up in the lifestyle (parties sex drugs rock'n'roll) and fucks a girl over before making up- or not! Just curious for a bit more drama or wayward or something…” // Look, I honestly started writing this with the intention of making Van a complete fuck, but I don’t know what happened? He just, like, grew a soul out of nowhere? I’m sorry!





	064 - 'Bad Boy' Van (Not Really Tho)

When you woke up the pain was instantaneous. Usually your hangovers were at least delayed by half an hour. You'd be able to quickly run across the road for a sports drink and painkillers, then crawl back in bed to die. Not that day though. It hit fast and hard, and only after a few minutes of suffering did you realise you weren't even in your own bed. You looked around the room. It was scarily unfamiliar, and you were alone. You picked up your clothes from the floor and quickly got dressed. You cringed at the used condom on the floor, and the almost empty bottle of tequila.

You peaked your head outside of the door, looking left and right. Wherever you were, it was silent. You tiptoed down the hall and into a small open plan kitchen and lounge room. Whoever you were there with last night, they were long gone. They hadn't even left a note. Rude. You downed a glasses of tap water before leaving. You couldn't wait to shower and sleep in your own bed. You felt dirty in every sense of the word.

…

You remembered his name the following night. You were sitting on the couch with Holly and you said it out of nowhere.

"Van? What van?" she questioned.

"No, that was his name. It was short for something, or something."

After that it was a little easier to remember the details. You remembered how he kissed, and the chain smoking. You couldn't remember what his voice sounded like though, or anything about his personality. Maybe he was incredibly boring; too dull to commit to memory.

…

A week or two later you were at the same bar you'd met Van at. It was late in the night and you spotted him at the bar. You watched for a while as he talked to a girl, and was clearly flirting. He tucked some of her hair behind her ear, and you remembered him doing the same to you. It must have been his signature move. He bought her a drink, and you could see the moment where he asked if she wanted to go get some fresh air. That's what he'd said to you, and that's how you ended up making out with him against a wall. The girl shook her head no and walked away. Van watched her go and the expression on his face was nasty. He went and sat at a table of guys then, and you wondered if he'd made that face at you on the night you met.

Later, you were leaning across the bar about to order a drink when Van came and stood next to you.

"Hi," he said but the tone was off. When you looked at him, it wasn't like recognition.

"Hey," you said slowly. You were significantly more sober than the first time you'd met.

"Saw you over here. Like your jacket," he said and brushed his hand against your arm. You frowned.

"Thanks,"

"Could I maybe get you a drink?" You looked at him carefully and couldn't work out if he was joking or not. He took a step back, clearly uncomfortable under your scrutinising gaze. "What?" he asked.

"Wow… You don't remember me, do you?"

He looked at you more carefully then. He literally looked you up and down, and you scoffed at the situation.

"Should I?"

"You're Van,"

"Yeah,”

"Yeah. We fucked a couple weeks back. Woke up in your bed and everything," you said and tried to not sound hurt, so instead it came out as anger. His face softened then, and he grinned. You didn't like how smug he looked. He held the collar of his leather jacket and shook it straight.

"Huh. Yeah. You're the girl that smells like vanilla," he recalled and it wasn't really the thing you expected him to remember. Your lack of response made him continue. "You've got a little birthmark right there," and he moved to touch you where you just can't touch people in public. You stepped back and swatted his hand away. He laughed. "Okay. Well. Cool. I'm out then," and he simply walked off.

It became clear that once he'd met the challenge, he became bored. You, like the other girl, were only conquests. You hated him.

…

You saw Van again later in the week. He didn't see you. You went to a record store looking for a gift for Holly. You were on your knees down one aisle flicking through the many boxes stacked on the bottom shelf when you heard the door chime.

"Van!" the owner of the store exclaimed happily from behind the counter. You listened to their conversation. Van was in a band, and they were playing a few shows around town. The owner spent a solid couple of minutes telling Van how good he was, and Van did nothing to demonstrate humility or a humble nature. He did though, say thank you a couple of times. You crawled to the end of the aisle and snuck a look. He was in the same leather jacket and black jeans that were too tight. He looked stupidly cliché and you rolled your eyes despite a lack of audience.

You had to wait until he left to go buy the record you'd found. The owner looked at you with scepticism and a bad type of curiosity.

"What?" you asked.

"Do you know Van?" he replied, and you stared at him blankly. "You just hid for fifteen minutes to avoid talking to him. No, no, let me guess. You slept with him, right? Big mistake, girlie." His tone was patronising and you felt the rage flare.

"Don't call me girlie," you snapped and walked out with Holly's record under your arm. Like you needed reminding of the mistake you'd made.

…

Holly's birthday was a lowkey dinner at hers, then town. She loved the record, you skipped telling her the trauma you'd been through to acquire it. In the uber to town she told you that you were going to this new club. Some local bands were playing, then it was open till late. Everyone was excited, but you felt a nervousness you couldn't explain, nor identify the origin of.

The first band was horrible. You couldn't drink fast enough to escape their sound. The second band were mediocre at best. The third band clearly had a following, and when they launched into their first song people went nuts. You were sitting at a table, and looked up interested but drunkenly detached. You took a sip of your drink and focused. You almost choked.

"Of course!" you yelled, unable to keep your thoughts internal. Of course it was Van on stage. He growled out words and seemed to sing the entire set to the girls at the front.

You really, really wanted to hate his band. They were good though. The sounds were catchy and compared to the other bands their performance was both full of energy and musically sound. Van smiled as he sung, and you could see how easy it was for you to fall into his bed. You tried to shake the thoughts away. When they finished, he thanked the crowd, and disappeared somewhere. You hoped it was the last you'd see of him. You were too drunk to be nice if he was a dick, and too drunk to be a dick if he was nice. Trouble would brew.

…

You didn't know if Van had spotted you, but when he reappeared in the crowd he did a good job at not coming anywhere near your table. When you were dancing with your friends, or at the bar, he wasn't around either. It was good and you began to feel at ease. Later, when you considered the option of food, you looked around for everyone. Holly was missing. Oh no, no, no, you thought. Please do not let her be with him somewhere. The last you saw him though, was heading out the side door with a girl that was a dead ringer for Zendaya about an hour ago. They were probably already in his bed banging. 

You went back to the table and asked if anyone had seen her; they hadn't. You checked the bathroom and out the front. You couldn't find her anywhere. As you came running back through the front entrance of the club you collided with someone at full force. You fell backwards onto the ground. Hands were around you, lifting you to your feet, before you had a chance to open your eyes properly. When you were standing a voice asked if you were alright. Van's voice asked if you were alright. You looked at him, and he looked genuinely concerned, and also way too sober to be still at a club at almost three in the morning.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I've got to go," you said quickly and moved to rush past him.

"You're looking for your friend, yeah?" You stopped and turned to look at him. "She's the tall one? Only girl in the club with heels?"

"Oh, God. Please don't tell me you've fucked her and left her somewhere?"

"What? No? What the fuck?"

"That's just… what you do… Where is she?"

"You know what? Fuck you then. I won't help," and he started to walk out the front. You chased after him.

"Wait! Van! Do you know where she is?"

"Yes. Fuck you, I was helping her!"

"Okay. I'm not going to say I'm fucking sorry. Where is she?" Van stood with his arms crossed over his chest. His stare was icy, and he took his time pulling a cigarette from a box and lighting it. "Van. For fuck's sake, you are a total fucking cunt. Where's Holly?" He blew smoke into your face and you coughed. It seemed to be revenge enough for calling him a cunt. He motioned for you to follow him. You crossed over an alleyway next to the club and down a side street. He fished keys out of his pocket and stopped at an old van. He unlocked the back door and slid it open. Holly was inside, curled up under a blanket, using a guitar case as a pillow.

"Holly! What the fuck?" you crawled in to her and shook her awake. She sat up and looked around dazed. When she focused on your face she smiled, giggled, then went to go back to sleep in your lap. You looked up at Van, who was standing watching. "What happened?"

"I was out the back with someone and I saw this one get pretty much dragged out by some guy. She looked way too fucking wasted to be going home with anyone, so I told him to fuck off. He did, but I didn't really know what to do with her. I put her here and tried to make her unlock her phone or something. All she would say was 'Y/N is a good friend.' I saw you before, so I figured it was worth a shot asking you if you knew her. So, you're fucking welcome. Calling me a cunt. Fucking rude. Lost the girl I was with too, and she was well fit." You didn't really know what to say. He took another drag of his smoke and exhaled away from you and Holly. You looked down at her and brushed your fingers through her hair. "Do you want a lift home?"

…

You listened to Van's quiet singing to the radio on the way to yours; his soft tapping on the steering wheel. You expected him to drop you on the curb, but he pulled up and opened the door. He directed you to get out and he carefully lifted Holly out of the van like a bride. You slid the door closed and quickly opened all the doors between him and Holly, and your bed. He carefully laid her down then watched as you pulled her shoes off and tucked her in. Only girl in the club wearing heels.

Van followed you into your kitchen. You started to make tea without thinking about it. He sat at one of the bar stools. You put a cup in front of him and he said thank you. As you drank you watched him take small sips.

"You're still an absolute fuck, you know?" you said. He grinned.

"But not a cunt?"

"Maybe that was a bit much."


End file.
